Madrid for The Romantics: a Friday-to-Monday weekend

A 2,200-year-old temple from Aswan, rebuilt stone by stone on a hill; go as the sun drops, when the reflecting pool doubles the sky. The park stays open after the temple closes.

Live jazz every night in a room of marble tables and mirrors; the first set is easy to get into, the second sells out, so book the table before you go.

Huevos rotos, fried eggs broken over chips and ham, at the house that has served them since 1974; book the week before and ask for a table downstairs.

Las Meninas and Goya's black paintings are a floor apart; book a timed ticket and spend ninety minutes on four rooms rather than three hours on forty.

Open since 1839: consommé from the silver samovar in the shop at the front, then croquetas and a cocido upstairs in a room of red velvet.

A glass-and-iron pavilion on a pond in the Retiro; walk there as the light goes low and the terrapins climb out onto the stones.

A tablao that has staged flamenco since 1956, with seats close enough to hear the heels and the singer's breath; one tablao is enough for a couple.

Row a boat under the Alfonso XII monument; forty-five minutes is the right length, and the lakeside terraces serve coffee when the arms give out.

Suckling pig and roast lamb from an oven that has burned since 1725; the cellar room downstairs is the romantic one, so ask for it when booking.

The roof terrace over the Metropolis dome and the Gran Vía at sunset, for the price of a lift ticket; the cocktails cost rather more.

Churros and a cup of chocolate thick enough to hold the spoon, in the passage café that has worked since 1894; the queue is shortest on a Monday.

Terraced gardens beside the Prado, planted in 1781, with two glasshouses for the cold; in late autumn the paths are yours and the leaves are gold.

Gambas al ajillo and a glass of sweet red wine at the bar of a 1906 shrimp house; share one plate and leave before the lunch crowd.